Warhammer: Start with a dog

The darkness is cold.

The light is scorching.

During his wandering years after he was declared an excommunicated traitor and left the Raventower, Adalic Vanus faced many unimaginably extreme or twisted situations.

But this does not include the current one.

Because there is no place that can create such an environment.

Light, light everywhere.

Ruthless light filled him, and his powerful biochemical organs were being burned alive, and every nerve was embedded with a single feeling of pain.

It felt so clear and certain, as if he was now a Glocks beast that had been slaughtered, eviscerated one by one, and placed on the butcher's cutting board illuminated by the starry rays of summer noon.

His black power armor had been stripped off after they captured him, and his hair was also examined. His bun was roughly pulled apart, and now a few strands of long black hair were hanging down on him. On the side of his face, the pale features of the son of Clarks were almost transparent enough to melt in the light.

Closing your eyes doesn't help at all.

Because this "light" that wanted to destroy him did not pass through the five senses, but directly acted on his sensory nerves.

Adalic couldn't think of anyone who could make something so vicious yet so ingenious. Maybe someone in Commorragh could do it?

But isn't he on a ship now, whether it's the lackey of the wight or the champion of the High Sky...? Is it a boat? What's this?

This is too much.

no……

His last bits of sanity began to fall away in a blur, like pieces of gray paper being licked by flames.

Every breath of air he breathed was like a flame, his heart and lungs were working hard and painfully, the desire to survive kept them from shutting down, and every minute and every second of living was a torment for all the bones and flesh in his body.

Vanus had never wanted to scream so instinctively in his life since he became a Power Ranger.

——

"Unusual, huh? Very unusual, this guy is obviously the server of the youngest goddess," Perturabo looked at the analysis data of the electroencephalogram and other things that had a very alarming curve, Lami Zane Noticed that he unintentionally used an Elda word when talking about the Prince of Darkness, "But he seemed to have only a normal reaction to this instrument of torture, and did not feel any extra pleasure. It is worth studying, Lami Zane, let Ai Harlem plus ten percent more intensity.”

"I think this poor unlucky guy will really shout his throat out this time." Lamizane shook his head and waved to Aharin beside him.

The latter walked over, the gold ribbon and silver-gray skull emblem on his gun-silver power armor sparkling. Now Aharin's cavalry-style terminator has been transformed into a style with more long-range attack weapons, somewhat like a tyrant style. , but the Iron Lord's youngest son and new herald still has his power hammer hanging on his belt.

"My lord, your command."

"Increase the excitation intensity by another ten percent."

The black-haired Ironborn carried out the order without hesitation, but he looked like he was about to cry. This detail made Lamizane couldn't help but take another look at Aharin.

"I say, Perturabo, don't you think..."

"I don't think so," Bian Mu cut off his words happily, and carefully observed the prisoner who was convulsing crazily due to extreme excessive pain in the shadowless cell.

"Uh, okay, besides, it wasn't like this the last time you caught the descendant of the red giant who also snuck in."

"Because the guy was caught not long after he ran in, and he did immediately surrender to me with all his heart... We surrendered, and he was also willing to be put on a psychic collar."

"So this one?"

The dog sat in Fearless and gritted his teeth, "This person has stayed on the Iron-Blooded for so long but did not take the initiative to kneel at my feet. He even tried to sneak into the armory when we launched the operation. I can completely regard it as an objection." A grossly provocative act on my part.”

"...Well, no one would want to kneel down to a backpack or the Dauntless of another legion. To be honest, you have to have a person to kneel to others..."

"Shut up!"

The Primarch Bianmu slapped his paws on the console angrily, "How dare this guy pass out right now! Where's Honso! Call him! Wake him up! Keep him awake!"

"...He will become an idiot if he comes two more times..." Lamizane raised his hand under the gaze of his descendants, subconsciously touched the fearless head - the helmet, and reluctantly conveyed the new message again. The command.

Aharin, whose face became increasingly pale, pursed his lips into a straight line and silently and efficiently informed the pharmacist to come immediately.

——

"This order from my lord comes at the right time. My work has been interrupted." Honso removed the medical goggles and muttered dissatisfiedly.

Now he looks a little different from when he got on the ship. The unruly, doubtful and ready to strike a fatal blow at any time has faded - or in other words, it is now well hidden on the surface.

In the words of his former captain Dasadra, "I think you and your apprentices only need a bucket of yellow paint to sneak into the Phalanx and shoot black guns." Oh, and don't think he doesn't know, It was this old guy who took the lead and shot him twice outside the cafeteria and in the elevator.

But he killed them all. Ah.

Tsk, poor excuse, Dassadra, it was like this in Medlengard, and it still is like this now. You still haven't been so cruel.

In Hong Suo's view, these old guys who have guarded his father for ten thousand years are a bit too weak, well, but for the sake of their dedicated efforts to protect their father, he will be more merciful next time he provides emergency treatment. Give me more anesthetic.

In addition, Tes Dassadra, you have become more and more confused recently. The potion master shook his head. Who would choose to fight with a black gun if they could sneak into the Imperial Fist Monastery? Of course, they must first get some relics and equipment and high-quality fresh seeds. Then empty the gene-seed vault, and finally pile melta bombs on their core cogitators and engine room before activating the Thunderhawk...

"Then do I need to go with you? Master Honso?" Parogov finished the pipetting work steadily, then put down the dropper and turned around, while not forgetting to open the reserve refrigerator.

The pharmacist's apprentice was recently allowed to paint his power armor white because of his outstanding and stable performance. The cold light of the large culture tank shrouded his body, making his side look like an ancient statue carved in ice. "My work here can We’ll do it later.”

"Well, it's time for you to learn some other skills that a pharmacist should be proficient in." The master pharmacist stood up and glanced at the gleaming panels of all the instruments. "Go and pick up the tool I put on the shelf in area A3. box."

Parogov's angular and handsome face finally showed a look of hope, "I'll get the toolbox right away, Master Honso."

"Very well, little Nilaidoa."

The pharmacists immediately went to work after appearing in the interrogation room.

Parogov felt like an eye-opener.

"This... can he bear it? Master Hong Suo?"

"No problem. Look at this neural linking method..."

"This is terrible, some..."

"What is it? This is... imperial technology."

"Imperial technology? I have to admit this is a bit unexpected."

"Yes, indeed, my dear little apprentice, this is a measure of penitence and... meditation commonly used by the Imperial Fists Chapter."

Parogov seemed really surprised this time.

He shook his head slowly, and a sudden heavy emotion made him sigh softly.

"Who would use it to soothe the spirit if there were not something more painful than this?"

Honso's finger pushed the wake button.

The Raven Guard's screams echoed throughout the chamber.

Gua!